‘There’s nothing to apologize for,’ Alexandra cut in. ‘I wanted it just as much as you did.’ She stared at him in disbelief, not understanding how he could suddenly distance himself from her, when she herself was unable to control this agonizing passion they shared.
He grimaced and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘It’s no use, you must leave El Pavón,’ he said in a clipped voice, permitting no discussion. ‘I’ve no right to drag you through this turmoil of scandal and vengeance. I’m a stigmatized man, we’d be tempting fate. You know nothing of la venganza de Calés. In linking your life with mine I’d be tarring you with the same brush, even putting your life in danger, and I’m too much … I feel too much affection for you to be so irresponsible.’
‘And this is truly why you want me to leave? Why you think we can’t be together?’ Relief, hope and exasperation tumbled together inside Alexandra. Salvador had never put it like this before, making himself directly the author of what might happen to her. In his mind, Paquita’s warnings to each of them in Seville were bound together. He was trying to stop her sealing her fate with his.
‘Salvador,’ she said, walking up to him and placing a hand on his arm. ‘You know that I’m not bothered about what people think, or any superstitious nonsense about gypsy curses.’ Alexandra tried not to think about the threatening images of the wake at the gypsy camp or the dark forebodings of wild-eyed old Paquita.
He shook his head, unconvinced. ‘I could never forgive myself if some harm came to you.’
Was he telling her that the paradise she had glimpsed whenever she was in his arms was a forever forbidden land to her? She could not, and would not, accept such defeatism.
‘Then let’s go away together, at least for a while, until your doubts and fears have died down. We could go to England, we could stay with Aunt Geraldine. Once I explain things to her, I’m sure she’ll welcome you at Grantley Hall.’ Alexandra spoke quickly, urgently, her voice pleading, hoping against hope to break through the wall that Salvador was once again putting up between them.
He gave a bitter smile, shaking his head slowly. ‘How naïve you are, niña.’
‘No!’ she burst out. The forceful tone in her voice commanded his attention, compelling him to look at her. For a few seconds Salvador stared at Alexandra, as if seeing her for the first time. ‘I’m not naïve, neither am I a little girl,’ she cried out indignantly and stepped back from him. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, Salvador, I’m a woman. A woman who loves you …’ She saw his expression suddenly freeze with a watchful intensity. ‘… Yes, loves you. Fighting against your stubbornness, your arrogance, and the figments of your twisted imagination.
‘Since day one, I’ve put up with your cat-and-mouse games. You’ve done nothing but play on my emotions, unable to untangle your own and decide what you truly want. Our destinies are not dictated by superstition or the whim of others, we control them. You’re so fond of proverbs … well, I read one just the other day that suits you admirably: Fatalism is the lazy man’s way of accepting the inevitable.’
Salvador tensed, looking for a moment as though she’d slapped him, and then he stared at her, lost for words. A slight furrow formed between his brows, his pale face grew otherwise expressionless, and Alexandra was aware of the old gulf widening again between them.
‘You know nothing of our country,’ he said, a cold formality in his tone, ‘nothing of its traditions and tribal customs. You’re ignorant of the dangers that threaten those who don’t conform to them, who disobey their rules or, worse still, people like you who arrogantly make fun of them.’ He spoke without looking at her.
‘What of your own sister, Salvador? Esmeralda left,’ Alexandra countered defensively. ‘She didn’t care much for your traditions either.’
He lit another cigarette, drew in deeply and slowly exhaled before continuing in a colourless voice. ‘Esmeralda’s case is quite different.’
‘On the contrary,’ argued Alexandra, moving back to the tree trunk and twisting off a spindly branch in her hand, ‘Esmeralda is a woman, and people here are forever telling me that a woman in Spain is not the mistress of her own life: she goes straight from her father’s house to her husband’s, without having any say in the matter.’
Faced with Alexandra’s obstinacy in refusing to accept what to him was so obvious, Salvador’s features grew tense. ‘Nowadays that’s becoming less so.’
‘Clearly, Esmeralda decided there are more important things in life than what society tells her she can do as a woman.’
Salvador made a casual gesture with his hand. ‘With Esmeralda, it was more a case of her will coming up against my aunt’s. Personally, I have nothing against the young man she’s chosen. He’s not an aristocrat, but he comes from an honest, middle-class background and will be able to give her a good life.’
Alexandra shredded a leaf between her fingers. ‘Esmeralda thought you would disapprove.’
‘Had I known about it, I would never have opposed their marriage. Quite the reverse, actually. I care deeply for my sister and wish for her to be happy. I’m sure that she didn’t act on impulse. She did what she thought was right, and though some would perhaps criticize her conduct, I’d be the last to reproach her for it. In her place, perhaps I would have done the same. Who can say?’
‘So, in her place you would have followed your heart, Salvador? You would have broken the rules too, is that what you’re saying?’ Alexandra was being deliberately provocative, but Salvador chose to ignore the challenge.
‘You seem to be unaware that, in some cases, people are led by more than heartstrings alone,’ he noted, a steely glint in his eyes.
‘Yes, they are led by their own free will. I have a will of my own and I’ve been taught to think for myself. I don’t need the sort of protection Spanish women seem to accept without question. I’ve not been shielded from the world to be handed over to a man before I have a chance to discover what life is all about. Why should a man be seen to have better judgement than a woman?’
‘Men are logical.’
‘And women are not?’
‘Women are emotional.’
‘And men are not?’ Alexandra was in full flow and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. ‘How would you describe your little scene yesterday? Where was the logic there?’
‘A Spanish woman would have been flattered to have her honour defended by a man.’ Salvador spoke in a controlled voice, though his eyes held a threatening glimmer.
‘I’m not Spanish. I’m English and in England—’
‘You are half Spanish, niña, and maybe our customs are different from those of England but while you’re at El Pavón you’d be wise to respect them.’
Salvador’s voice held a dangerous note, but Alexandra had bitten her tongue since they had first met and now she was on a rollercoaster of belligerence and self-defence.
‘Obey your customs, which have neither rhyme nor reason?’
Salvador sighed. ‘If you wish to put it that way.’
‘I would call that tyranny, and it went out of fashion in civilized countries a long time ago.’ ‘You are one argumentative woman.’ ‘Why, because I question? Because I don’t spend my time flattering you and massaging your ego?’ She pulled another leaf off the stick sharply. ‘What you’re telling me is that you like your women to be submissive.’
‘No, niña, I am not,’ Salvador said calmly, as though Alexandra were a cornered animal he was trying to pacify. ‘You would actually find it easier on yourself if you tried to fit in with our ways. Haven’t the burning embers of a fire more warmth than the flaming blaze that is burnt out too soon by its own intensity?’ Salvador’s silvery gaze was steady.
‘Oh, please … don’t hide behind metaphors and clever words.’
‘I’m not hiding, Alexandra. Merely trying to explain to you why I sometimes find your impulsive behaviour disturbing. It can be dangerous too. You just don’t understand, do you?’ he said softly, in a way that sent sh
ivers down her spine. ‘You’re a very beautiful woman … whether or not you realize the effect you have on men, I’m not sure, but I know that around you, a man becomes aware of primitive instincts that have nothing to do with the way he’s been brought up, or his station in life. Niña, it’s all too easy for a woman, however worldly and sophisticated she might think she is, to walk recklessly into a situation beyond her control.’
The edge to his words seemed to cut away Alexandra’s defences. Perhaps Salvador had a point. Wasn’t that exactly what had happened with Don Felipe the day before? Despite this, she refused to allow him to sidetrack her into submission and instead steered the argument away from herself.
‘And yet you don’t think that Esmeralda is being a reckless, emotional woman in running away with her lover? She did what she thought was right, you said so yourself. She acted on her logic, which still led her to flout tradition and the rules of her family.’
‘As I said, Alexandra, Esmeralda’s case is different,’ Salvador answered impatiently. ‘Yes, she went against the wishes of the Duquesa. Your grandmother belongs to other times, another age. In her day, young girls stayed with their families and waited obediently for their suitors. It would never have crossed their minds to dispute their father’s authority or even cast doubt on it. It is on the strength of such traditions that the great dynasties were founded.’ He inhaled on his cigarette.
‘And it is precisely because modern norms of behaviour are not so rigid as before that today we’re witnessing the disappearance of the great families. A castle can’t be built on sand. It’s because we’re living in these changed times, and ironically because Esmeralda is a woman, that she can turn her back on everything and leave.’ He looked at her flatly.
‘In my case, the situation is totally different: I am a man, I have responsibilities that hold me here, and as a man of honour, I must face up to them.’
Fury raged through Alexandra. There was no point in arguing with Salvador any more. He made everything sound so final. She threw the stick to the ground and tossed her head back dismissively, refusing to acknowledge any sense in what seemed to her a lame explanation.
‘Honour? You’re just a miserable hypocrite hiding a carnal passion for a gypsy girl beneath a tissue of excuses and lies!’ she blurted out, storms blazing in her green, accusing eyes. She realized too late the significance of her words and wished she could swallow them back.
‘The way I feel about Marujita is entirely my affair and not anyone else’s,’ he answered coldly. ‘I meant everything I said, though I can’t stop you from interpreting it any way you choose.’ He met her recriminatory gaze without flinching. ‘However, if that’s what you think of me,’ he went on, his voice now flat and toneless, ‘then I fear you lack the sort of sensitivity I had thought you capable of.’
‘Very well, Salvador, I will do exactly what you want, what you’ve always wanted. I’ll leave,’ Alexandra declared, doing her best to stop her hands from shaking. She hated the way he was making her feel, and was so desperate to regain her sense of balance, but she couldn’t think straight. He always seemed to be one step ahead of her and now she wanted to lash out and show him that she wouldn’t be beaten.
‘I’ll accept Don Felipe’s invitation and spend some time in Granada,’ she added, defiantly sinking deeper into the quicksands of her scorned pride. ‘I’ll visit him today, and tell him of my decision. I’m sure he’ll be delighted.’
‘Of that I have no doubt,’ Salvador’s face was ashen as he flung his cigarette into the murky waters of the canal.
He flashed Alexandra a final glance that froze her to the spot. She looked away so that he couldn’t see her tears. Then, without giving her the chance to offer a retort, he turned on his heels and strode off towards the house.
CHAPTER 12
Alexandra let herself slide to the ground. Her head throbbed. She leaned it against the willow trunk and watched Salvador’s cigarette butt float slowly on the water. What a mess! Why did conversations with him inevitably end this way?
She gave a long sigh. There was no going back now and she cursed the foolish pride and fiery temper that had made her say such hurtful things. But it didn’t matter any more: she had to leave El Pavón now, if only to save face. Perhaps the trip would do her good; she really needed a change of scene.
In spite of the recriminations she had hurled at him, Alexandra now knew that Salvador’s passion for her was genuine. Like the Flamenco of Andalucía, to which he had introduced her, their mutual desire raged like a force of nature. The way he’d held her, clinging to her possessively, feasting on her lips as though he wanted to drink up her soul, even his angry outburst of the night before … all of these things, she had to admit, were proof of his feelings.
And now he knew where she stood too: she had told him she loved him … but still he pushed her away. What more could she do? She felt exhausted and, for the first time, ready to give up, ready to leave El Pavón.
Heavy-hearted, Alexandra stood up. She still loved Salvador and wanted him with a passion that equalled his; but the fire of that passion was always a destructive one, burning them up in its angry flames. Even if she had shared his fear of the gypsies, or credited the superstitions almost everyone seemed to believe, she would still find it difficult to trust a man who had blown hot and cold from the very beginning, always evading an honest, open conversation with her.
Salvador had been right about one thing, though: this was no place for her. Alexandra had come to Spain hoping to acquire a father and a family but the de Fallas had never accepted her. To them she was, and would always remain, the foreigner, the cuckoo coming to rob them of Doña María Dolores’ affection and a slice of their inheritance. Anyhow, she would never have been able to conform to all the strict laws and traditions ruling the inhabitants of El Pavón. She could see now how her mother had suffocated under them, why she had run away.
Still, Alexandra thought wistfully, it would have been such an amazing achievement, had things turned out differently: to have a caring family, so many people to cherish, roots that anchored her and the sense of belonging she’d always yearned for. She was strolling head down, deep in gloomy thought, when the sound of a car close behind made her jump. She turned to see Ramón at the wheel of the old Fiat in which he had picked her up on that very first day at the Puerto de Santa María. It seemed so far away now.
‘Good morning, Cousin,’ he called out cheerfully. ‘How can I be of service to you today?’ She managed a ghost of a smile.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ramón frowned, alarmed by her miserable expression. ‘Don’t tell me you’re upset by Esmeralda’s prison breakout? If only she’d left a map of her escape route, some of us could have followed.’
But all Alexandra could manage was a sad shake of her head. The lump in her throat choked her, and she remained silent as she fought back the tears that were stinging her eyes.
Ramón opened the passenger door and motioned for her to get in. ‘Come on, tell me what is making you so sad and we can try to put it right,’ he said in a soothing voice. ‘It can’t be that bad. Let’s take a trip into Jerez. That’ll soon cheer you up, it always does.’
At times like this, Ramón reminded her of Ashley. Kind and faithful Ashley, always there to console, to listen to her troubles and offer a shoulder to lean on. Ashley … now he seemed like a ghost from another world.
‘What would I do without you, Ramón? Yes, let’s go into Jerez.’ Alexandra managed a weak smile and climbed in beside her cousin.
‘That’s my girl. Now, tell me everything.’
Alexandra confided a little in Ramón. She didn’t tell him everything, just that she and Salvador had argued, it had involved her going off with Don Felipe to his bodega, and that she couldn’t understand why Salvador continued to allow himself to be caught up with Marujita.
Ramón listened quietly as they wended their way through the lush countryside dotted with vineyards, orchards and cattle ranches. ‘Alexand
ra, I did try to warn you that Salvador was a law unto himself. Who can say why he does what he does? Our cousin is a complicated man, with a misplaced sense of honour. He’s reckless as well as stubborn, which isn’t a good combination. This business with Marujita is of his own making, and so is the solution. There’s nothing any of us can do or say to influence him but as for you and Don Felipe, you should be careful of him.’
Alexandra cocked an eyebrow. ‘So I should be careful of him and of Salvador? Are there any safe men in Andalucía?’
‘Listen, mi primita, I feel some of this is my fault …’ Ramón glanced at her as they sped alongside a field of high corn. ‘I should have discouraged you at Don Felipe’s corrida party. I was too busy having a good time myself to realize how much attention he was paying you. If I’d stuck closer to you, I could have told you more about him. I never thought I’d hear myself say this but, had I been in Salvador’s place, I’d have given the man a good thrashing too.’
‘Please, Ramón,’ Alexandra laughed, momentarily finding her good humour, ‘don’t you lecture me as well!’
‘No, no, I’m not lecturing you,’ he replied. ‘I’m only putting you on your guard against this Romeo. He’s broken more than one heart in Jerez. There’s been all kinds of malevolent gossip — who knows if it’s true? — but one thing’s for sure, his exploits have covered most of Andalucía.’
‘So I hear. Look, as I keep telling everyone, I’m a grown woman. I promise I’m not about to fall into that sort of trap, Ramón.’ Alexandra flashed him a reassuring smile. ‘We’re nearly in Jerez, let’s talk about something more cheerful. You can tell me the best places to visit.’
They left behind fields of sunflowers and olive groves, and the road fed into the dusty suburbs of the town. Ramón began to tell her about it: Jerez de la Frontera, the capital of horsemanship, sherry and Flamenco.
Indiscretion Page 35
